


would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this is smart

by catteo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, I promise, and then they bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant Ward is back on the Bus, back on the team and back in Skye's life. </p><p>She still really hates him. </p><p>HONESTLY.</p><p>And then they frickle frackle in the cargo hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this is smart

**Author's Note:**

> [serenitysea](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com/) wrote the thing where Skye tried to pretend that Ward didn't affect her at all.
> 
> And failed miserably.
> 
> [and i'm not good at aiming but i can aim it at you ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3699245)
> 
> She nominated me to write the sequel...
> 
> So this is Ali and Cat write the reunion
> 
> aka: SKYEWARD - AND THEN THEY BANG.

She doesn’t really pull him down the stairs so much as aggressively set the pace and expect him to follow. He does, just like she knew he would. If there’s one thing she can count on it’s that he’s always there, a reliable presence at her back. She hates it of course. That she never feels safer than she does in those moments when she catches sight of him, weapons drawn, a look of fierce intensity on his face, guarding her back. So like the old days that she could almost forget all the parts in between.

 

Almost.

 

The toe of her boot catches on the last step, but Skye ignores the sharply indrawn breath behind her. It’s harder to ignore the hand that grabs her arm and prevents her tumbling to the ground. There’s a huff of laughter, warm air tickling her neck, as a faint rattle of metal hitting metal reaches her ears, drifting up from the toolboxes scattered around the room. She makes a conscious effort to get herself under control. She hates that she can’t even hide the way he makes her feel any more. It seems like the ultimate betrayal.

 

He’s only having this effect on her because she’s still pissed at him. That’s what she needs to remember.

 

The cargo hold isn’t properly lit at night, just emergency lighting throwing shadows across the walls, and it’s one of the few places where you can be assured of being alone. Skye wants to tell herself that she doesn’t know why she dragged Ward here, under the pretense of having a conversation.

 

It would be a lie though. And she owes herself more than that. The small voice in her head that seems to constantly be second guessing her these days suggests that perhaps she owes Ward more than that too.

 

She probably shouldn’t have downed Ward’s whiskey with such enthusiasm.

 

Skye pulls her elbow out of Ward’s grip as soon as she’s back on safe ground and turns to face him. He’s too close. She can feel the heat radiating off him, see the light dusting of freckles on his skin, the ghosts in his eyes. She clenches her hands into fists to stop herself reaching up and tracing the scar on his cheek.

 

One corner of his mouth twitches slightly as he takes a step towards her, closing the distance between them to a dangerously narrow gap. His lips hitch into a knowing smirk as the ground beneath them shifts for a bare fraction of a second.

 

“Thought you wanted to bring me down here to show me how good you are at being _professional_ …” Ward tilts his head slightly, a fucking challenge written in every line of his body. Skye reacts on instinct, her fist heading for his face before she really has a chance to think it through.

 

It doesn’t even seem to phase him, the smirk staying firmly in place as he knocks her arm to the side. For a second Skye gets a dizzying sense of déjà vu, only they’re on the same damned team now, and the girl she was when they played these parts before is nothing more than a distant memory.

 

“Still little sloppy, to be honest. I see May hasn’t managed to stop you telegraphing when you’re emotional.” He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Good to see that you’re consistent at least.”

 

“Unlike _you_ , you mean? What side are you on today, Ward?” She feels a giddy sense of triumph as she sees her shot hit home. She tells herself that it isn’t ruined by the guilt that twists in her gut. He’s the one who got her out after all. She tries to ignore that fact. Some days it’s easier than others.

 

“Same side as always, Skye.” His smirk vanishes as he steps away from her, running a hand across his eyes. It’s a gesture so familiar that she wants to scream. She refuses to give him the satisfaction.

 

“Right, _sure_.” She can’t quite hold back the bitter laugh. “I keep forgetting. You’re on _my_ side, right? You’re not a good man, Skye, it’s _nothing fucking personal_ , you only hope for me and you’ll never lie to me again. Did I miss anything?” Skye tries to ignore the hot burn at the back of her throat. It’s harder to pretend that the doors to the lab aren’t vibrating. Or that Ward’s not staring at her with a _fond fucking look_ on his face.

 

“ _There_ you are.” He’s closing the distance between them again, each step cautious, a sleek predator closing in for the kill - she _really_ needs to stop with the big cat analogies. It’s not helping that his eyes are dark amber, the lights picking out gold flecks as he moves, or that she’s just standing there letting him come.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Her voice isn’t as steady as she’d like.

 

“Hey, Skye…” He’s openly grinning at her now and she hates it - she _definitely_ hates him. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“I swear to God, Ward, if the next word out of your mouth is _better_ , I’m going to kill you.” She doesn’t know how he does it. How he manages to make her so _furious_ just by breathing the same air as her. Her pulse is jumping, a rapid staccato that matches the vibrations in the air.

 

“You haven’t really done a very good job of it so far, Skye. Not sure how many do-overs I’m prepared to offer to be honest.” He shrugs, as though it’s no big deal that she shot him in the back. As though he’s not making a joke of the fact that she fired four bullets into him less than six months ago. She _absolutely_ isn’t going to feel guilty about it.

 

“Well, you keep giving me incentives to try and I’m sure I’ll succeed sooner or later.” She knows this dance. It’s dangerously familiar and it can’t possibly lead anywhere it should. Her smile is brittle around the edges. She can feel it trying to break to pieces and leave her without the armor she so desperately needs when she’s around him.

 

“Give it your best shot, Skye. No pun intended.” He’s definitely closer than he should be. She can see the wave of vibration she’s trying so desperately to hold in skate up his arms, raising goosebumps on his skin. She wonders if it feels like she’s _there_ , dancing, just beneath his skin. She fights her desire to reach out and touch him.

 

“Who the hell even _are_ you?” Skye feels as though she’s constantly on the back foot these days. It’s infuriating. _He_ is infuriating. He doesn’t even answer her, just keeps coming closer, until they’re standing toe to toe and she has to tilt her head up to look at him. One of the buttons at the neck of his black Henley abruptly _pings_ its way across the room.

 

He fucking _laughs_. Rich and warm and just for her. A sound of pure delight that burrows under her skin and runs, golden, through her blood. It’s the first time anyone’s treated her powers as anything other than something to be feared.

 

So, really, what happens next is all _his_ fault.

 

She’s on her toes, one hand fisted at the neck of his shirt, pulling him down to meet her. She’s sure that it’s only the fact that she can’t seem to get her powers back under control that makes it feel as though every cell in her body is trying to pull itself apart as their lips meet. He tastes like whiskey and shattered dreams.

 

His hands are in her hair, sliding around the back of her neck and pulling her closer, eliminating the last of the distance between them. It’s exactly like the first time, starting off almost chaste, just the brush of his mouth on hers, but it blazes out of control in seconds. His lips are soft, but he kisses her hard, his breath hot and his tongue sliding against hers. The groan he makes as she drifts her hand along the stubble of his jaw makes a jolt of desire shoot through every inch of her body. Fighting it seems as though it would be _impossible_. She doesn’t even try.

 

Ward’s hands skate down her body as he ducks his head and sucks a path down the pulse that’s hammering at her throat. She hardly recognizes the whimpers that echo against the metal walls until she feels him chuckle against her skin. She’s got her arms twisted around his neck before she even really realizes what she’s doing. They always did work best together though, and he’s got his hands under her ass, allowing her to wrap her legs around his hips, before she even really knows that it’s exactly what she wants.

 

She can feel his cock, hard against her inner thigh, even through two layers of denim. Skye hooks her ankles together and grinds firmly against him. She’s not sure which of them moans loudest as she seeks out more friction, chasing the heat that’s slowly building in her belly, skating up her spine.

 

Ward spins her in an instant, her back hitting the glass doors of the lab with enough force to leave her breathless. That’s definitely the reason. It has nothing to do with Ward stealing the air from her lungs as he holds her against the glass with the weight of his body, freeing one hand to slide under her top. She can feel the calluses on his hands as he pushes his fingers underneath her bra and runs his thumb across her nipple. Her head falls back against the glass and he takes the opportunity to scrape his teeth across her collarbone. She’s practically fucking him through two layers of clothing, her hips tilting against his so that the friction hits her clit as she moves.

 

“I fucking hate you.” Skye tries to pretend that she’s not breathless. That her voice doesn’t come out as a strangled gasp, _want_ and _need_ heavy in every word. That she’s not proving the complete opposite with every inch of her being.

 

“You’ll get over it.” He murmurs it against her throat and he still sounds like a smug bastard. The worst thing is that he’s right. Her hand’s at his throat before she even knows what she’s doing. He goes rigid against her, pulling his mouth away from her skin in an instant. His pupils are blown, eyes almost completely black, his desire for her written clearly across his face, and she increases the pressure of her fingers ever so slightly. His palm’s still hot on her skin, the fingernail firmly scraping across her breast the only part of him that’s still moving.

 

“Put me down.” She somehow manages not to whimper at the loss of body heat as he carefully slides his hand out from under her bra. She takes her hand away from his neck and unhooks her legs from his body, letting him slip her to the ground. Her legs shake as her feet hit the floor. Ward takes a step away from her, the look of regret on his face telling her that it’s the last thing he wants to be doing.

 

“I’m sorry, I thought --“ Ward’s voice is soft.

 

“Shut up, Ward. I’m not really interested in hearing your thoughts right now.” Skye’s irrationally pleased with herself at the look of confusion that crosses Ward’s face. “I mean, I’m good, but I couldn’t get to your belt from that angle. So…” She just leaves the word hanging in the air and reaches for the front of his jeans. As soon as she’s got two fingers hooked in the front of his waistband she pulls him back towards her and looks up at him. That turns out to be a mistake. The look on his face steals her breath. She’s in so much fucking trouble and she doesn’t even care.

 

“Fair’s fair, Skye.” The way that he says it sounds like a promise. His grin makes her cunt throb in anticipation. Skye takes a deep breath and tries to tell herself that this isn’t going to change absolutely everything. Tries to tell herself that she could absolutely stop if she wanted to. But then Ward’s mouth is back on hers, all teeth and tongue and _desire_ , her world blurring at the edges, and all she knows is that she needs to feel his skin on hers.

 

Skye makes quick work of undoing his belt, popping the buttons of his fly in seconds, and sliding her hand against his cock where it strains against the confines of his underwear. She swallows down his groan and runs her hand along the length of him a second time. Ward pulls his mouth away from hers, and she can see his throat working as he pulls in two shuddering breaths.

 

His hands find her shoulders, pushing her back against the glass, and he holds her there for a moment, gaze locked on hers, as though he’s trying to read her thoughts.

 

“If you don’t get on with it, I might change my mind.” She knows that neither of them really believes it for a second, but Ward’s apparently prepared to go along with the charade. He somehow manages to school his features into an expression of concern before reaching for the hem of her T-shirt. By the time she emerges, her shirt heading for some dark corner of the room, he’s got a delighted smile on his face and it makes her chest ache. His own shirt follows hers and she finally gets her hands on his skin. She swallows hard as her fingers touch two identically shaped scars on his skin.

 

“Don’t overthink it, Skye.” He runs his index finger down the fine white line below her belly button, each of them tracing the ghosts of the past.

 

“Well give me something else to think about then.” The glass is cool behind her back, and she tries to focus on that, rather than the slight shake of her hands. Ward fumbles with her belt and, for some reason, it makes her less nervous, the fact that he’s not as calm as he’s making out. She’s fully expecting him to find some way to make her beg, but either she’s completely misjudged him or he simply wants this as badly as she does. She’s grateful, though, for the way that Ward doesn’t bother taking his time, has both of them stripped of their remaining clothing in moments. Skye hums her appreciation and runs her hand up the firm length of his dick as he steps closer.

 

“ _Skye_.” His voice comes out as a sigh, one hand cupping the back of her head and pulling her towards him. He kisses her carefully this time, some sort of unspoken communication. It’s tender, almost sweet. But it’s the opposite of what she needs from him right now. She wraps her fingers around the soft skin of his cock and slides her hand slowly up and down. It has the exact effect that she wants. Ward’s mouth opening further, sucking against her tongue, as he bucks his hips up into her hand.

 

Ward slides one hand down her body and pushes firmly against her clit before slipping his fingers through her slick folds and sliding them up inside her. She’s so wet that he encounters no resistance, and she’s honestly not sure which of them moans the loudest at the sensation as he crooks his fingers inside her cunt. The back of her head hits the glass as she pulls in a shuddering breath. Ward’s not really in a much better state, one arm braced on the glass, head dropping forwards as she pumps her hand faster.

 

She can see the pulse racing at his throat, a rapid staccato that matches hers exactly. Part of her can’t quite believe that they’re doing this. The rest of her wonders how the hell it’s taken this long. She can’t help the breathy chuckle that escapes her at the thought. Ward lifts his head and looks at her, a faint crease visible between his brows. She knows that her smile is everything it shouldn’t be. Happy and full of promises that she shouldn’t be making. It’s worth it to witness the way Ward’s face lights up in response though.

 

“Fuck me. _Now_.” Her voice barely sounds like her own. She hates him. She loves him. She’s never wanted anything in her life as much as she wants this. As much as she wants Ward to look at her like this forever.

 

He’s got her pushed back up against the doors in an instant and Skye’s suddenly absurdly grateful at his ability to follow orders. He boosts her upwards, back against the door, eyes never leaving hers as he lifts her until their faces are level. Her legs go back around his hips, her legs locking behind his ass, and she rocks her hips up against him, scraping her wet cunt along the hard length of his dick. Ward hisses out a breath as she does it, and heat unfurls along the length of her spine. He lifts her a little higher, reaches down and guides himself into her as he lowers her back down. Somehow she manages to keep her eyes open, stares at him as he struggles to do the same.

 

She sinks a little lower, her eyes finally drifting closed at the slight burn and stretch as she takes him deeper. His hipbones grind into hers as he bottoms out and she’s glad of the fact that he pauses, gives her time to adjust to the sensation. Ward whispers her name and she tries to pretend that it doesn’t sound perfect in his mouth. He sounds totally wrecked and she’s almost surprised at the surge of delight that races through her. She cracks her eyes open as he presses a kiss to her forehead. They’re veering into dangerous territory and she needs to take her mind off the way that this feels as though he’s trying to tell her something that she’s really not ready to hear.

 

She rocks her hips against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis and sending a shudder of pure desire through her body. She can feel tiny tremors skating across her skin, and it’s not until he gasps her name that she sees them dancing along Ward’s body. She wonders how it feels for him, if he feels like she does, as though she’s coming apart in his arms. She gasps his name as he moves his hips, pulling his dick almost all the way out of her before sinking back in. His head falls forwards against hers, the sound of his ragged breathing adding to the white noise blaring in her skull. He mumbles nonsense against her skin, their voices twining in the air, his lips skating erratically across her skin as he moves inside her. The feel of his cock, thick and hot, filling her completely with every stroke, pushes her closer and closer to the edge with every thrust.

 

Even with an arm hooked around Ward’s neck, Skye has to slam the palm of her hand against the glass, to anchor herself to something other than Ward’s body. Her sweat-slick skin glides against the door as Ward picks up the pace, sparks shooting up her spine and heat slowly building, low in her stomach. She has no idea how he manages to keep them upright as he slips one hand down between their bodies to press firmly against her clit.

 

“Grant, _fuck_.” The effect of her words on Ward is electric, his hips stuttering as he groans out her name. His fingers push more firmly against her clit, and she clenches around his cock as he does. The kiss he gives her is messy, his tongue licking up into her mouth before he sucks at her bottom lip. She pulls her head away, gasping at the sensations hitting her from every direction. She’s so close, but she wants him to fall apart too, so she can feel the exact moment that it happens. The instant that he actually, _finally_ , loses his tightly held control. She wants to be the cause.

 

“ _Grant_.” She grates his name out around a barely stifled moan, as he scrapes a finger firmly across her clit. His hips slam into hers, his back snapping straight, burying himself so deep inside her that it’s almost painful. It happens almost before she realizes, her spine arching and liquid fire racing through her veins, a blazing constellation in her blood. She feels like she’s coming apart at the seams, aftershocks screaming through her bones. Ward lasts two thrusts longer before she feels him collapsing against her, sighing her name on a shaky breath.

 

Skye’s not entirely sure which of them slips first, but they end up on the floor in a tangle of limbs. Ward shoots her a look so full of guilt that Skye can’t help herself. It starts with a bubble of laughter, but before she knows what’s happening she’s having a serious problem getting her giggles back under control. Ward gives her a shy smile, as though he’s not really sure what to do with this new version of Skye that’s not throwing insults and punches. Skye takes pity on him, crawls up the length of his body and plants her mouth on his before tucking her head under his chin. She decides that she can go back to hating him in a few minutes.

 

“Umm, Skye?” She lifts her head to find him staring over her shoulder, a look of amused disbelief on his face. She follows his eyeline and she’s fairly certain that her heart stops for a second when she sees what he’s looking at.

 

The glass doors of the lab, bullet-proof, grenade-proof and bomb-proof are apparently not Skye-proof. Broad cracks snake outwards from a shape that is unmistakably a body, outlined by faint fractures in the glass. _Her_ body.

 

“Looks like I get a ten for performance too.” The smirk on his face matches his tone exactly and Skye’s not entirely sure she hates it.

 

“Honestly? More like a seven.” Skye taps a finger against her lips as though deep in thought. “A ten would have shattered the glass.”

 

 


End file.
